


Swallow Your Blood

by sithmarauder



Series: Metamorphoses [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: (But Still Force-Sensitive), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Politics, Established Relationship, Kylo Ren Venerates Padme Instead of Anakin, Kylo Ren is a Senator, M/M, Senator Ben, dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 12:30:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6051667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sithmarauder/pseuds/sithmarauder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a widely known fact that the galaxy could fall, the great planetary cities crumbling to dust under the onslaught of a particularly determined enemy, and still politicians would bicker, even as the walls came down around their damn fool ears.</p><p>Aka the AU wherein Ben Organa is a senator for the New Republic, following in his grandmother's footsteps, and Poe Dameron is still the best damn pilot in the Resistance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swallow Your Blood

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has inspired some truly amazing fanart by some incredibly talented individuals:
> 
> [Senator Ben](http://benamidalaas.tumblr.com/post/139995408941/some-amazing-fanart-for-my-senatorben-au-by-the) by [Lady Shiroshika](http://lady-shiroshika.tumblr.com/)  
> [Senator Ben (+ cute cuddles with Poe)](http://benamidalaas.tumblr.com/post/139995617526/more-incredible-art-by-lady-shiroshika-inspired-by) by [Lady Shiroshika](http://lady-shiroshika.tumblr.com/)  
> [Senator Amidala and Commander Dameron](http://benamidalaas.tumblr.com/post/141680670716/lady-shiroshika-senator-ben-amidala-and-pilot) by [Lady Shiroshika](http://ren-no-kimi.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [Senator Ben Amidala](http://benamidalaas.tumblr.com/post/141806607406/pallasgrey-big-shot-screaming-put-your-hands) by [silkbrickhouse](http://silkbrickhouse.tumblr.com/)  
> [Senator Ben Organa](http://silkbrickhouse.tumblr.com/post/139877958519) by [silkbrickhouse](http://silkbrickhouse.tumblr.com/)  
> [Senator Ben (+ a cute little doodle with Poe)](http://silkbrickhouse.tumblr.com/post/139948655309) by [silkbrickhouse](http://silkbrickhouse.tumblr.com/)  
> [Ben Amidala](http://silkbrickhouse.tumblr.com/post/140603969059) by [silkbrickhouse](http://silkbrickhouse.tumblr.com/)
> 
>    
> This fic was mostly born out of boredom and me thinking "what if Ben became interested in Padmé instead of Vader" because I am trash for canon AU things. My family is on a skiing vacation but on the first day out I completely wrecked my already horrible feet and had to be taken down the mountain by the ski patrol (r.i.p my pride), so I've had nothing to do but play KOTOR and write bad fic all week while I wait for the swelling to go down as my arches fall.

> _[…] they say it is by the pull of  
>  abysses, that you measure height._
> 
> \- **Marina Tsvetaeva** , from “Poem of the Mountain,” _Selected Poems_ (Penguin Classics, 1994)

 

It was a widely known fact that the galaxy could fall, the great planetary cities crumbling to dust under the onslaught of a particularly determined enemy, and still politicians would bicker, even as the walls came down around their damn fool ears. In moments of weakness and rage, when he was left with only his broiling thoughts, Ben Organa contemplated doing just that, dragging everything down down _down_ if only so the reformed Galactic Senate would open their eyes and see the danger that lurked in the shadows, sitting with false placidity where they did not wish to look.

He always had to crush that instinct; to close his eyes and will the dark parts of himself away even as he watched fools playing at power squander the second chance so many people had died to give them. His parents had not fought and won a war only to have their efforts squandered like this, but the New Republic was determined to walk around as if the Empire had never even existed, leaving Ben with the same hot anger and the bitter thought that his grandmother had not _died_ so that the new Galactic Senate could make the same mistakes as the old one so soon, not when the threat of the First Order was so very real and only growing by the day.

Ben scowled at the mirror as he adjusted the collar of his dark robes, taking care not to snare the fabric on the ring he wore on his smallest finger, the tacky silver one that had been carefully moulded into the shape of an _X_. The face staring back at him was almost harsh, the features of his parents blending together to create an illusion that could be sharp and merciless one second and, in the words of a trusted—if occasionally irritating—source, _soft and sad_. Today, however, was not the time for softness, so Ben grimaced and pushed the right section of his hair back from his face, securing it with an old heirloom that his mother had once given him as a child. Not for the first time he wished he had something of his grandmother’s, something he could draw strength from, but as far as he knew her possessions had been hidden, if not completely destroyed, and the effort it would take to seek them out was better spent on more pressing matters.

“Like your hair?” a teasing voice said, and Ben tensed automatically before he forced himself to relax, turning with narrowed eyes to face the only being in the entire galaxy who could get away with such comments on a regular basis.

“You were speaking out loud again,” Poe explained as he slipped into the dressing room, humming appreciatively, likely at Ben himself. It was often left to interpretation, but Ben was no fool. He dressed to impact, to leave an _impression_ , because senators were, at their hearts, shallow beings overly concerned with appearances, particularly their own, delighting in nothing more than finding some cocked up reason to smear their enemies, and Ben knew for a fact that they watched him every time he appeared in public, their sharp eyes searching out every flaw, cataloguing every mistake.

Ben took great pains not to make any as a result, starting with his appearance. From the old holorecords he’d been able to dig up as a child, he knew it was a lesson his grandmother had learned well, and he strived to emulate that, ensuring that no hair was out of place and that each and every piece of fabric that touched his body was of the highest calibre, woven into intricate designs.

He would not give the Senate a shallow reason to dismiss him.

“Chancellor Villecham still refuses to heed my mother’s warnings,” Ben said, turning away from Poe to face the mirror again. His voice was low, soft, but he wondered if Poe could hear the bitterness and frustration lurking beneath it. It wouldn’t be a surprise if he could. Poe had always been better at reading him than most, ever since they were children. “Commander Sella tried her best to get him to listen. Now it’s my turn.”

Poe made a soft noise in reply, and in the reflective surface of the mirror Ben could see the other man looking at him with no small amounts of fondness, something that made him grimace even as it softened something inside of him, chasing the ever-present anger away, if only for a moment.

“Did you need something?” Ben said, voice sharpening into a snap, but it only made Poe laugh.

“No, Your Highness,” Poe said mockingly, making Ben bristle, but he relaxed immediately when Poe reached up and slid a hand into his hair, subconsciously bowing his head to allow the man better access before he remembered himself and straightened, stepping away.

“You still haven’t told me why you’re here,” Ben said, an accusing note in his voice, one that turned to frustration once he realised that Poe had snatched the ornament from his hair.

“I’d have thought you’d be more appreciative, seeing as I came all this way for you,” Poe said in that flippant voice he often affected, a charming smile on his face, but his eyes were serious and Ben wondered at the ability of this man to steal the very breath from his lungs with just one look.

“You didn’t. You said you had that important message for Sella.”

Poe’s smile turned knowing. “A message that could have easily been delivered through more technological, impersonal means. Ben, you idiot, don’t make me reveal that I begged the General to fly down here.”

“You didn’t,” Ben repeated.

“I did,” Poe countered. “It was quite embarrassing, really, and I’m not sure I’ll ever live it down, but it worked and I’m _here_ so don’t make me regret getting down on my knees and begging my childhood hero to allow me to fly a useless mission, sacrificing my personal and professional reputation in the process, just to see your ungrateful, scowling face.”

Ben opened his mouth to say something, anything, but in the end he merely sighed, face softening without his permission. “You’re a menace,” he murmured, and was rewarded with another laugh as Poe stepped forward, reaching up to rest one calloused hand against Ben’s face.

“Hey,” Poe said, his voice soft as he pressed their foreheads together, and Ben was bracing himself for an empty boast when Poe followed the greeting up with, “it’s good to see you again,” and his voice was so achingly sincere, his expression so full of affection that Ben almost stopped breathing, tethered to the other man in this shared moment. His hand lifted, almost of its own accord, to cover Poe’s, and for a moment they just stood there, in the heart of Republic City, as if the galaxy wasn’t spinning around them; as if they weren’t standing on the precipice of what looked to be another war, too soon after the first.

“I worry about you,” Poe continued, his thumb gently rubbing the skin over Ben’s cheekbone. “I know Sella is here, but besides her you are alone, and I think even the General worries. These people are not your friends. Every day I expect to hear that you’ve suffered some tragic ‘accident’ or developed a completely unexpected and fatal ‘allergy’ to something.”

"Only to the stupidity of politicians," Ben said as he tensed, letting his eyes fall closed of their own accord. He did not wish to dredge up the many worries he had surrounding Poe himself; the same worries he’d shouted at the other man countless times during the many fights they’d had when Poe had first joined up with the New Republic, and then the Resistance. This was a moment for peace, the calm before the storm that was the Galactic Senate meeting, and he would not spoil it by snapping at Poe, for what seemed like the millionth time, just how many ways one could die in an X-wing, best pilot in the Resistance or not. So he bit back the automatic retort and forced his body to relax again, sliding his hand down to encircle Poe’s wrist.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, and if his voice was a little sharp still he knew Poe would understand and forgive him. He may not have pursued the path of the Jedi, may have seen in them too many flaws after his uncle had ensured his mind was properly guarded, but he retained enough of his training to be able to sense when something was, for lack of a better term, _wrong_. The Force was a constant, a river that carried with it all the life in the universe, but just as that river could be peaceful, so too could it be harsh, becoming angry and dark and _frightening_ , not just because of the thrashing waves but because Ben still sometimes felt the urge to jump in, to try and harness the river’s power and use it to make the fools in the Senate see what they were missing. If Padme Amidala were still alive, she would have been completely disgusted. Her only daughter, the daughter who had lost and sacrificed so much, labelled as a warmonger for daring to speak the truth, reputation besmirched by a group of fools who, at this rate, would refuse to recognise the threat of the First Order until they were breaking down their doors.

It would be so easy to just slip in, to let the waves wash over him, to grab them in his hands and direct them at his enemies, to _make them see_ —

“Hey, _hey_.” Poe’s voice cut into his thoughts, pointed and stern, and Ben sucked in a breath as he pulled himself out of that particular train of thought, releasing Poe's wrist and blinking away the shadows that had formed in the corners of his eyes. Poe had both hands on his face now, and Ben drew strength from his presence, using it to reorient himself on an increasingly noisy world, drowning out the whispers of other lives around him to focus solely on Poe’s.

“See, that,” Poe said, “I worry about that, too.”

“So do I,” Ben said bitterly, and they remained together for a few more moments as Ben regulated his breathing, drawing on the old meditative techniques his uncle had taught him as a boy which, in retrospect, was why it took Ben so long to realise Poe was _humming_ , an old tune he recognised from their childhood, and he almost laughed because it was so _Poe_ : that desire to help, to make things better, to fight for and protect the people he loved in whatever way he knew possible.

“C’mere,” Poe said at last, gently guiding Ben’s body towards the edge of the ornate bathtub and smiling when he was met with no resistance.  “I can’t reach the top of your head anymore, freakishly tall as you are.”

And so, perched on the edge of a chair with deceptive grace, Ben watched as Poe produced the hair ornament he’d swiped earlier before Poe’s fingers were in his hair again, nails scraping tenderly at Ben’s scalp as he drew Ben’s hair back, separating sections as he began to braid them, letting one dark, thin braid loop loosely around Ben’s forehead like a diadem. Once or twice the hair would catch on Poe’s rough hands, or perhaps the oddly familiar, matching, and still gaudy ring he wore on his right, but Ben suffered it with minimal complaint, waiting with a patience he wasn’t often known for as Poe left a section of hair at the top of his head unbraided, only to pull the rest of the finished braids back into a elaborate loop, pinning them in place with the stolen hair piece before he let the braids tumble down.

“There,” Poe said as Ben stood, moving to appraise himself in the mirror.

“You’ve improved, Dameron,” he allowed, resisting the urge to touch them as Poe smirked knowingly, not at all put out by the use of his last name.

He wondered, as he stared as his reflection, if his grandmother would have been proud of him; if, perhaps, she was there now, smiling and urging him on. He’d never known her, and neither had his mother, but he knew, as he knew the pull of the Force, that she had been a strong woman, respected and feared. He wanted that, wanted people to fear his ideas—his words—so much that they wanted to kill him, because that meant that they were _scared_ , and they were scared because they knew he was _right,_ and their fear gave him power over them.  They knew Leia Organa was right, that the Resistance was right, and that other people might realise this and join with them.

Invigorated, the passion ignited in his chest, he pressed a fleeting kiss to Poe’s forehead, murmuring a regretful _goodbye_ as he withdrew from the dressing area and from his chambers, but as he stood in darkened room that led to his section, to his stage, he wasn’t surprised to feel a pair of arms slide around his waist.

“Slay ‘em,” Poe’s voice whispered from the shadows, and Ben spared a brief moment to nod, to turn and press his forehead against that of the man who had played a major part in convincing him to fight this fight in the first place.

Then, as the doors slid open and Chancellor Villecham took his position in the hovering podium at the room’s centre, Ben straightened his shoulders, put on his mask, and thrust his name into the galactic spotlight once more.

**Author's Note:**

> This AU is pretty well formed in my head and as a result there might be more coming if people like it, so please let me know what you think <3 Comments inspire me to keep writing.
> 
> For those who are curious, [this](http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/736x/a1/88/50/a18850c5d4980f9299ac8f8465a735fe.jpg) is the hairstyle Poe does for Ben.
> 
> I have a [tumblr](http://benamidalaas.tumblr.com/)! Please feel free to come talk to me about my space children.


End file.
